


Echoylir

by ChopsHitch



Series: House of Memories [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Character Death, Din Djarin can't catch a break, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other, Panic Attacks, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Young Din Djarin, Young Paz Vizsla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopsHitch/pseuds/ChopsHitch
Summary: “You have to be mistaken.” He whispered, tried his best to put whatever anger he felt in his voice. He looked up at her but she shook her head, her words were no longer needed and Din wouldn’t hear them anyway. He tried to force himself to breathe, force himself to do anything, to just react but instead he stayed seated, not trusting himself to say anything else.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Series: House of Memories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059317
Comments: 22
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the next major story in this series, and hopefully should be 3-4 chapters long. 
> 
> I am so sorry for the things that I continue to put Din through but it's all leading up to something I swear!  
> The title means to grieve, search, mourn.

Din was 18 when his world came crashing down around him again, for the second time in his life. He was 18 when he realised bitterly, that a heart that was still beating could be broken again and again and again. When the Armourer had called him into her forge, he hadn’t thought anything of it, had thought that maybe she was going to lecture him once again on his lack of control, after he’d broken his hand and Xoem’s ribs once again. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d been called there when his anger was out of control and both his buir and Paz were off planet and Din was effectively grounded. 

He knocked on the door and waited for her permission to enter, as was common courtesy, even after a summons. She opened the door herself, her body language tense, and her weapons nearby, as if she wasn’t expecting their meeting to go well. Din was confused. He had attacked many people over the years, but  _never_ Her and had he not been so blindsided by this revelation, he would have been offended. He had never, even in his angriest moments, even raised his beloved knife at her. He felt his own body start tensing up in apprehension, whatever she was about to reprimand him for was not good and he was surely in a world of trouble. Din tried to reason with his mind, tried to calm himself and to not reach for the knife he knew as a natural extension of his body. 

The Armourer stepped aside and watched him as he entered, not missing any of his movements nor the silent battle engaging in his mind and taking away some of his wits. If she had been anyone else, she would have sighed unhappily, wishing this deed to be bestowed upon another but she was the matriarch of the Covert and Din was one of her own. She had watched him grow, watched him open up and trust again, watched him start to let go and she was about to destroy all of that progress. She was not frightened of Din, like many of the other elders and the two had a shared respect, she understood his troubles and had tried her best to help him and in return he had always valued her advice, took it to heart and tried his best to contain his rage. 

“You should sit down,” She commanded him, for anyone else it would have been a suggestion. Din’s gaze dropped from her helm and he obeyed silently. He kept his hands clasped together between his knees. “What I am about to say to you is not easy and I need you to listen to me.” 

Din’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his hands squeezed tightly together, he was surprised he hadn’t broken the bones in his hand again. The tone of her voice, even modulated, was not unkind and at any other time he had been grateful for that, he felt a sense of dread building up inside of him. His mind started racing through whatever possibilities his imagination conjured up and he had all but convinced himself that he was being stripped of his Creed and turned away from Mandalor, like the outsider he truly believed he was. He closed his eyes and wished Paz were here with him, his hand on his thigh to ground him and calm him. Paz wouldn’t be allowed in a private meeting with the Armourer and even if he was, he was off world and not due back for another week. 

The Armourer wished that there was an easier way to say what she had to say but knew that Din wouldn’t appreciate anything other than blunt honesty, having no need of small talk or pleasantries. “There has been an accident-“ she started. Din’s head shot up, and she was sure if she could see his face, his eyes would be wide in shock or fear. She could feel her own heart break for him. 

Din felt the world shift around him and all he could think of was Paz and how he would cope if something happened to him, what he would do if he found out someone had harmed him or killed him and felt his heart racing and his ability to breathe suddenly lacking. No words came out. 

“It’s your Buir,” she continued quietly, her voice sounded far away from him, as he felt himself falling. The world wasn’t just shifting around him, it was outright falling apart. He felt his heart stop beating and suddenly he was back in the bunker, the droid opening the hatch and he was trapped. No, she had to be mistaken because his buir would not be stupid enough to get killed on a  _bounty_ , he was the best beroya in the Covert, there was no way - it wasn’t plausible, his buir would not be gone. She was still speaking but Din couldn’t hear her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Din shook his head, partly in response to her words and partly because he could hear the rising sounds of blaster shots in his ears. He felt tears sting at his eyes and he was biting his lip to stop himself breaking down. He felt her hand on his shoulder, and had she been anyone else, he would already have his knife against her throat but instead he felt his body sag under her touch. His broken fingers clenched into a tight fist and his free hand ghosting above his knife. 

“You have to be mistaken.” He whispered, tried his best to put whatever anger he felt in his voice. He looked up at her but she shook her head, her words were no longer needed and Din wouldn’t hear them anyway. He tried to force himself to breathe, force himself to do anything, to just  _react_ but instead he stayed seated, not trusting himself to say anything else.  He couldn’t even think, couldn’t process that it was his buir that was gone because he had been so sure that Paz would be the one to get injured, so distracted with thoughts of Paz that he hadn’t even thought about his buir being gone as well. 

He shrugged the Armourer’s hold on his shoulder and forced himself to stand. She let go of him and watched at how he stiffly attempted to nod at her as his dismissed himself and stumbled out of her forge, his hands clenched in fists at his sides; she would have followed him, made sure that he got back to his quarters safely, but they were not  _friends_ and it was not her place to do so. It never got easier to tell her people when they had lost one of theirs, especially when they had already lost one of their own. 

Din was hollow and empty, the hatred he tried to keep locked away drowning him as he sat on the edge of his cot. He had known that the universe was cruel and unforgiving but he had allowed himself to get attached to another person who had been cruelly taken away from him. He hadn’t had it in him right then, to find out how it had happened or if he had died the warrior he was because if he heard more he wasn’t sure what he would do. If he didn’t hear more, he could convince himself that the Armourer would summon him again soon and tell him that whoever reported it had gotten it wrong, his buir was alive and well, or even alive and injured and that would be okay because he would feel so empty and alone. 

He felt a broken sob make it past his lips, he could no longer contain the grief that he felt, hating himself for allowing him to get close enough to view this man as his father because he knew what happened when you loved people. And he had allowed himself to love this man, in the way he had loved his parents before him and he felt a flare of anger. Anger was good, he thought, he knew what to do with anger, could survive on anger. He had never been able to process grief, had shut that feeling away deep down in his heart and locked it away when he was young. He felt another part of his heart shattering, remembering that he had barely survived this feeling of loss before and truly did not think he would cope this time. 

What was left of his heart longed for Paz to be with there with him but his mind recoiled at the thought, Paz was just someone else that could be lost; another piece of his heart waiting to be broken. He felt another sob fall from his lips, not knowing where to go from here, or how to carry on. He had allowed himself to feel again, allowed himself to be fooled into thinking that they were safe, that he could have this happiness. 

He had been right when he was younger, he thought angrily, where he had tried to keep himself locked away, keeping the world out because if the world was locked out, it wouldn’t hurt him. But then he had met Paz, stared into his soft grey eyes, made him bleed and heard the promise of  _friend_ on his lips, and it had been enough to make him start to forget. Paz had wormed his way into his heart, and Nurink had followed and now his buir was dead. And just like when he was young, he wanted to hate Paz because this was his fault, he had taken those broken pieces of Din and tried his best to put them back together and Din had let him. 

He slipped his helmet off over his head and just dropped it to the floor. He slowly stripped himself of his armour, letting it litter his floor and held his blank pauldron in his hands, regretting he never took Nurink’s clan as his own, refusing the adoption vow and now once again being left alone, how he had once wished for it to be. He threw the pauldron against the wall, hearing the concrete crack and the echoing clang of the beskar landing to the floor. He remembered all the times in his youth he had angrily thrown his armour around, causing untold damage and his buir had never said one angry word, just wrapped him in a hug and murmured calming words until Din had felt the fight leave his body. The memory felt like a stab in his heart. 

He forced his body to lie down on the cot, pulling the blankets around him, wishing once again that Paz was with him, lying beside him, his arms wrapped around Din’s waist promising that they would get through this together and sobbing once again as he realised how truly pathetic he was. Paz wasn’t here, his buir was  _gone_ and Din was alone, the way he should have been years ago. 

The world was cruel and uncaring, Din remembered, felt the grief wash over him over the death of his parents, shuddered as another wave of grief crashed over him when he thought of his buir and finally allowed the scream that had been building up inside him come out when he thought of Paz, who was all muscles and strength, truly the best of them, who was suddenly so vulnerable to a universe which just  _didn’t care_ about who it took and who it spared. 

If Nurink could be taken, then so could Paz, it was only a matter of time. Din sobbed into his pillow until unconsciousness claimed him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulled away, slowly, resting his forehead against Paz’s, his eyes closed, just trying to keep himself in this moment and trying to forget what had led them to be here, helmless and forsaking the Creed. Din was broken and Paz was breakable, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. Paz was his lifeline and Din was drowning.

Din hadn’t left his quarters since the news that his buir had been killed, had barely eaten, and had barely slept, for once he closed his eyes, he’s dreams were taken over by droids and fire and death. He’d woken with a cold sweat and the knife pointed at invisible monsters, that weren’t truly there, and Din’s hands shook as he lowered the knife, struggling to remember to breathe, blood pounding and blaster shots echoing in his ears. He had lost count of the days since he had seen the Armourer and lost count of when Paz would return, he had told himself that it didn’t matter, Paz might come back this time, but he was never guaranteed, and Din was not allowed nice things. 

The Armourer had sent various elders to check on him, they brought him food and hushed apologies, their respect for Nurink outweighing their fear of Din. Din never opened the door for them, waited until he had heard them leave before he grabbed whatever food they had brought and stared down at it blankly. He picked at the food that turned to ash in his mouth when he tried to eat and threw the rest away. Had he been a braver person, he would’ve picked up his helm and faced the elders head on, but he was a coward and told himself it no longer mattered. 

He forced himself to wash the dish, gripping it tighter than necessary when the water washed over it and stood above the sink, before he felt anger surge within him, and he threw the plate at the wall. What was the point in these mundane tasks when his world had been destroyed and he was drowning under the weight of grief on his shoulders. He tried to tell himself to see the Armourer, she would know how to help and how to calm him, as she did when he was a child, but he was not ready to face her, knowing that she would have to tell him the final details of his buir’s death and knowing he was not ready to hear it. Knew that he might never be ready to know all the details. 

He was a coward through and through, no amount of training could change what was in his blood, what was his nature. 

He hated himself more than he thought was possible.

Din was unsure of when he had chosen to lay down in his cot again, but when he opened his eyes, he was looking at a blank and dark ceiling. Time passed differently when you were broken, he thought. He forced himself to sit up, turned on a dim light blinking as his eyes adjusted to the nee light source and looked at his wrists, remembering the promise he had made to Paz when he was 15, that he would try to stop hurting himself and find slightly better ways to cope. He’d broken the promise the night after he found out about his buir, his fingertips brushing against the new scar and closed his eyes; Paz would be disappointed and finally, _finally_ see Din as everyone else did. Hopeless, crazy and broken. 

He heard a noise at his door, grabbed his knife and stalked into the main living space, not bothering to grab his helm because, he reasoned, whoever invaded his space wouldn’t be alive long, and therefore his Creed would not be broken. It was dark in the other room, and he didn’t not bother to turn on the light. He crouched in the corner of the room, listening as the intruder walked into something and cursed loudly. 

“Din? Din, it’s me.” Paz called out into the room and Din froze. The light flickered on and Paz looked down at Din, huddled in the corner, his knife held tightly in his hand. Paz immediately took off his gloves, dropped them on a table nearby and his hands reached for his helm. 

“Don’t.” Din found himself whispering at him. He could not stand it if Paz broke his Creed just to try and ground him, try and get through all of Din’s demons and fix him again. He was not 7 anymore and could not be put back together again as easily, he would make sure of it. 

Paz turned and locked the door to Din’s quarters, and then returned back to the spot in front of Din, dropping into a crouch and holding his hands up, to signal to Din’s subconscious that he was a friend, and he was safe. Din lowered the knife, feeling tears begin to sting his eyes because hadn’t he wanted Paz here with him? Hadn’t he wanted Paz to make it better, to put his broken pieces back into place? 

He dropped the knife when he remembered that Paz could be taken too and forced himself into Paz’s arms. Paz wrapped his arms around him instinctively, falling from his crouch to his knees and pulling Din into his lap. 

“Oh, Din’ika, I am so so sorry.” Din heard him whisper as he squeezed him tighter. Of course Paz had heard the news, had heard about Nurink like everyone else had. 

“I don’t know what to do.” He confessed, quietly, wishing his words didn’t sound as broken as they did. Paz’s hand found his hair and started running through it lightly, working through various tangled and knots. He couldn’t lie to himself, he knew he was a mess, hadn’t looked after himself since the news had broken and had been living as if he was a ghost himself. He knew he wasn’t eating or sleeping and had forgotten to shower for days, he released that he probably stunk but couldn’t even begin to feel embarrassed about it. Paz didn’t comment on any of those things. 

“That’s okay,” Paz replied earnestly, just holding Din against his body and stroking his hair. “I’m here now, I’ll look after you.” 

Something in the words caused anger to surge in Din and he struggled out of Paz’s grip. Paz stayed still, his hands dropping to his lap and his gaze following Din. “I don’t need your help.” He hissed at Paz, because if he allowed Paz under his skin again, it would only hurt all the more when he wasn’t there anymore, and it would only be his fault for depending upon Paz in the first place. “You aren’t going to be here forever; I need to get used to being alone.” 

Paz grabbed one of Din’s wrists and once again pulled him closer. Din heard him sigh sadly. “No, I won’t be Din’ika but I’m here _now_. Let me look after you, please.” 

Din dropped his gaze to where Paz’s fingers were wrapped around his wrist, feeling it for the lifeline that it was and gulped. He nodded and watched as Paz came to life, pulling him up and forcing him to sit on the small couch in the room. Din let himself be pulled and pushed and placed by Paz, any anger draining out of him and he once again just felt hollow and empty. 

He watched as Paz started to pick up all the broken pieces of the plate he had thrown earlier, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges and it reminded Din of how Paz treated him, how he carefully he had to act around Din, especially when he was angry, and Din felt guilty. Paz threw all the pieces into a bin and started putting away whatever dishes Din had managed to clean, tidying up the place because he was so incompetent. 

“It’s okay, Din’ika,” Paz said, breaking him out of his thoughts and he looked up at the man. Tears were once again stinging and his eyes and Paz quickly closed the distance, crouching down in front of him and cupped his cheek, his thumb stroking the skin underneath Din’s eye. Din felt his eyes slide shut, relishing the feel of Paz’s skin on his. “That’s right, calm now, I’m here.” 

“But for how long?” Din whispered, his eyes shut tightly, wishing now more than ever that Paz could read his mind, feel all his insecurities and doubts. Paz’s other hand squeezed his hip gently.

  
“As long as you’ll have me by your side.” He promised him solemnly. Din knew that he meant it because in all their years of knowing each other, Paz had never lied to him, never spoken anything that was less than true. And while Din didn’t know if he could cope with another loss, didn’t know if he could cope with losing Paz and wanting to protect himself, he would never turn Paz away from him.

He felt his hands reach to Paz’s helm, and wait before Paz nodded, allowing Din to take the helmet off his head and bare his face before him. He hadn’t since Paz’s face since Paz took the Creed and while Din could remember soft grey eyes, and the scar, the reminder of Din on Paz’s skin, he had forgotten the finer details. He carefully placed Paz’s helm beside him, like it was a holy object and felt his fingers reaching out to touch Paz’s face, studying it and relearning everything he had forgotten.

Paz’s face was a gift. He was beautiful. Paz’s eyes closed under his touch, as his fingers searched his skin. His hair was different than it had been when they were young, braided, and top knotted, while Din’s was still wild and unkempt and his chin was covered in stubble; Din’s fingers brushed against it, finally resting on the scar from Paz’s ear to chin. Instinctively, he felt himself lean over and kiss the scar, the closest thing to an apology he could hope to express; it had been too long for him to form the words, but the gesture was new.

Paz’s hands had dropped to his hips and when Paz felt his lips press to his cheek, his grip tightened on Din’s hips. Paz’s eyes opened as Din moved away, Din felt his eyes water and he pulled his hands away from Paz’s face. Retreating from the moment that he had created for them, remembering that even with all of Paz’s muscle and strength, he was still vulnerable and breakable. They all were.

  
“What do I do now?” He whispered to Paz, wanting some form of order to carry on, to give him meaning again because everything had been stripped bare and to the bone. Paz reached out and touched his face again, cradling it in both hands, wiping away tears that had spilled from his eyes.

  
“You mourn and you heal; then we carry on, when you’re ready.” He replied and finally pressed their lips together, for the first time. Din felt his hands grip whatever of Paz’s clothes he could reach from under the armour; just needing to feel Paz here with him, feel the grounding sensation of Paz’s lips on his and silently thanking him for just being there.

He pulled away, slowly, resting his forehead against Paz’s, his eyes closed, just trying to keep himself in this moment and trying to forget what had led them to be here, helmless and forsaking the Creed. Din was _broken_ and Paz was _breakable_ , but in that moment, it didn’t matter. Paz was his lifeline and Din was drowning.

For the moment, Din would let himself forget that Paz could be taken too. Paz was here; Din shut his eyes and filled his senses with Paz. For the moment, it was calm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, finally Paz began to understand. Started to physically see the cracks that Din wanted to keep so hidden behind his armour, behind his helm. He could see that there was barely anything holding him together anymore and he desperately wished that he could be enough to keep Din from going over the edge. 

It had been a long couple of months since Nurink’s death, and Paz had found himself once again trying to rebuild Din, reforge him into something stronger than even beskar but it had been difficult. Din woke up frequently from nightmares screaming and shouting in the language that Paz didn’t understand and waved his knife around blindly at ghosts that weren’t there. Paz kissed his shoulder, kissed his temple to try and bring him back to reality, which he had quickly learned from Din was not any better. 

The first few weeks were especially hard, with Din barely eating and forcing a distance between them, which Paz had noticed but deemed not wise to comment on. It didn’t stop the niggling feeling in his heart that Din was pulling away from him, retreating somewhere deep in his mind where Paz could not follow and wouldn’t be able to find him either. It didn’t stop Paz from soothing him those nights he woke up disoriented and sobbing, didn’t stop Paz from grounding him in ways that would make the Armourer frown, and, in those times, he felt a piece of Din return to him and was grateful to whatever entity had gifted him that blessing. His heart would always belong to Din, to his wild Draagax and that would not change. 

Din was quicker to anger these days, like he had been when he was young and though he hadn’t attacked Paz directly, he had turned on him with fire blazing in his eyes and a snarl on his lips before blinking away the haze that had clouded his judgement. It was worse when he saw the snarl drop from Din’s face and the hurt return to his big brown eyes. Din truly didn’t know how much emotion his eyes and face captured. 

It had taken some weeks, but Din had finally returned to the field of bounty hunting, providing for their tribe, and coming back black and bruised, more injured than not. Paz had gotten angry when he had come back with a broken ankle and found himself storming out of Din’s quarters, which he had practically moved into without invitation or any thought of what he had been doing. He had thought he heard Din call out to him when he slammed the door but quickly dismissed the idea; Din had always been few on words, and whichever ones he spoke were now cold and calculated, he would not call out for Paz to stay with him. Would not permit himself that weakness and while Paz _understood_ , it did not hurt him any less. 

He returned a few hours later, knocking on the door hesitantly, as if he couldn’t just walk in and he needed Din’s permission to enter his sanctuary. Din pulled the door open and retreated back into the living quarters, limping with every step he took. Paz felt guilty. 

“It isn’t your fault,” Din hissed as he lowered himself onto the couch, as if he could read Paz’s mind. Paz forced himself to sit in the chair by the table opposite Din, allowing him the space he apparently so desperately craved. The distance hurt but Paz had promised himself he would be there for Din, look after him in any way he needed, even if it meant this. “You’re angry at me.” Din stated quietly. 

He was helmless and armour-less, a picture of perfect vulnerability, something he hadn’t allowed himself to be for a while. Paz accepted the gesture silently; Din’s brown eyes watching him intently.

“Yes, Din’ika, I am.” He replied, trying to keep his voice calm and his anger in check. He didn’t want this to erupt into a fight, wanted to keep Din on his side as long as possibly, forever really, if Din would let him. He was beginning to have his doubts. Din remained silent a few moments longer and Paz could feel his gaze over him, watching as Paz’s hands clenched together, waiting for Paz to remove him helm and actually face him, Paz figured. 

“N'eparavu takisit,” Din whispered to him instead, instantly dropping his gaze. Paz found himself speechless. In a moment he was talking off his helmet, carefully placing it on the table and was crouched in front of Din, a position they found themselves in a lot lately. 

“You keep getting _hurt_ , cyare,” He murmured, as his hands reached out and gripped Din’s thighs, ignoring the tiny spasm of pain, knowing he would be bruised all over and wouldn’t care regardless. “I’m beginning to think it’s on purpose. Nurink taught you better than that, he taught you to be the _best_.” 

Din’s breath caught in his throat at the mention of his buir and Paz knew he had touched on a wound rawer than his broken ankle. He would have felt worse than he did, but these words needed to come out, Din needed to understand. 

“Do you know how much I hate seeing you beat up like this? It _hurts_ me, Din, because I am always fixing you and then you go and do it all again!” 

“I never asked you to fix me.” Din snapped at him. Paz knew that it was true, Din had never asked for his help but he did it anyway because he loved him. Every little broken piece, he loved and cherished, tried to nurture until the hurt wasn’t quite as prevalent anymore. He was not stupid enough to think that it would ever go away. 

“You did not need too. I care about you, Din and I don’t mind being here trying to put you back together, honest to Maker, I don’t _mind_. I will always be here for you. But you don’t care about _yourself_.” 

“I wish you didn’t care.” Din confessed to him. “It would be easier.” Paz nodded in understanding, trying to encourage Din to open up. Trying to see into his mind and get back what was missing from their relationship. Trying to get back to the piece of Din he had started to keep hidden when his buir had died. 

“I know, Din’ika but I do. I always will.” 

“That doesn’t make it easier.” Din whispered as he shut his eyes but rested his arms on Paz’s shoulders, which Paz took as progress. He moved his hands from Din’s thighs to his waist. “Everything just _hurts_ , Paz but at least when I get hurt on a bounty, there’s something physical there, something real.”

And finally, _finally_ Paz began to understand. Started to physically see the cracks that Din wanted to keep so hidden behind his armour, behind his helm. He could see that there was barely anything holding him together anymore and he desperately wished that he could be enough to keep Din from going over the edge. 

“Oh, Din’ika...” he murmured and pulled Din into his lap, forgetting momentarily about his broken ankle. Din hissed but otherwise remained silent. Paz kissed him, slowly and gently, trying to reassure Din that he was trying to understand but would be there regardless. Din kissed him back, trying to deepen the kiss and move things along to distract himself from how he was feeling, regardless of his injuries. 

“Soon, Din’ika, let me get some bacta spray and tend to you a little first.” Paz demanded lightly, scooping Din up in his arms and taking him to the bedroom and gently lying him down on the bed. Din tried to protest but Paz shushed him. “Let me do this for my own piece of mind; let me do it for me and not you.” 

Paz pressed their foreheads together and then pressed his lips to Din’s again. Din whined when he moved away and Paz smiled down at him, positively beaming. Din rolled his eyes, but Paz saw the ghost of a smile appear however briefly. 

Maybe, he thought, just maybe, they would be alright. Din would allow himself to heal, would allow himself to start putting his broken pieces back together and let Paz back in. And whatever pieces of Din were left over, Paz would love them anyway.

“Right, cyare, take off your clothes, let’s get you sorted.” He ordered, as he left the room to grab the bacta spray and a splint for Din’s ankle. When he returned to the room, Din was stripped down to his underwear and sitting on the edge of the cot rather than lying down where he had been left. He looked up as Paz entered the room and tried to smile at him again.

“Where should we start, hmm? Other than your ankle, what’s the worst?” Paz asked, once again crouching at Din’s feet, pulling the swollen foot towards him. Din grimaced but remained rather silent, all things considered. Paz sprayed it with the bacta spray and went about splinting it. “We’re going the infirmary to get this checked out tomorrow, Din’ika. No arguing, I can fix many things, but I can’t set a broken bone.”

Din sighed in defeat, or relief. “Do my shoulder next.” Paz moved himself from his crouch and sat on the bed behind Din, frowning when he saw the purple shoulder. Wordlessly, he applied the bacta spray and started massaging it into the shoulder; Din’s head fell back, and he groaned. Paz stopped and started apologising. Din shook his head.   
  
“It felt good,” Din whispered to him. “I’ve missed your touch.” He added almost as if a confession. Paz chuckled and kissed his shoulder but returned his hands and started massaging again.

“I should check out your other wounds.”

“My back is sore. Massage that.” Din ordered and Paz obeyed. Gently pulling Din back onto the bed and then pushing him onto his stomach, then resuming the massage on Din’s back, paying special attention to the knots, but going over spots that made Din moan. In other circumstances, he would use oil while massaging his lover but this time, he used bacta spray to try and soothe the various bruises he found as he rubbed and kneaded the skin; Din didn’t complain, relaxing into the touch.

The minutes bled together, and Paz found himself getting hard at the noises that Din was allowing to pass from his lips. “Going to do something about _that_ , Vizsla?” Din challenged, opening an eye and smirking in a way that Paz thought should be illegal but made his heart melt all the same because it had been months since he’d allowed himself to be this playful.

His hands grabbed Din’s hips and he rutted against him, making Din groan. “Something like that?” He replied, smirking himself. He moved his hands from Din’s hips to his ass and started massaging his cheeks, squeezing them slightly harder than normal. Din groaned anyway and Paz started pulling down his underwear, squeezing the naked flesh when Din’s boxers had been discarded over the side of the bed.

“Do you want this?” Paz whispered breathlessly. Din nodded and bucked into Paz’s hard crotch. Paz felt himself moan. “Use your words, Din, tell me you want this.”

“I want this.” Din said, his voice deeper with lust and that was enough to drive Paz crazy. “I want you to fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next and final chapter to this instalment will be the slash that you've all actually be waiting for!
> 
> Will they make it through this? Will Din let Paz in properly? Will Paz just give up?  
> ANSWERS ON A POSTCARD PLEASE!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz hummed into his hair, closing his eyes and inhaling Din’s smell, overwhelming his senses with his lover, addicted to the scent. Just as he felt sleep creeping on him though, Din rolled out of his embrace and almost fell out of the bed, forgetting his broken ankle in his post sex haze. Paz groaned and rolled onto his back, pulling the sheets up around him, wanting longer to enjoy the afterglow of their love making. Din leaned over and kissed him gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So enjoy this very rushed, not well done slash! It's my first time though so please just appreciate it with all it's flaws!

Paz all but growled and leaned forward to kiss the back of Din’s neck, enjoying the sight of a smirk resting on his face. He rolled Din over so that they could be face to face, Din lazily opened an eye as if to question his actions, but Paz said nothing and kissed him. The kiss deepened as Din’s arms brought themselves around his neck and he pulled himself up slightly; Paz gripped his hips tighter in response. He pulled away from Din, trailing kisses down his neck, enjoying the noises that fell from his throat in his frowning haze of pleasure. 

When he reached the spot above Din’s collar bone he bit and sucked and listened to the broken moan that Din tried to choke back. He felt the grounding feeling of Din’s nails digging into his shoulders and felt himself grin as he sucked the bite he had just made, claiming Din as his own, wishing there were a way to make it permanent, like the scar on his face. He would always belong to Din; he was never sure if Din felt the same way. He sighed as he pulled away from the bite, littering smaller ones up his neck and across his throat. Din’s nails dig in further, and Paz was certain he could feel the skin breaking and felt himself groan at the thought. He knew he was big, knew he was strong but with Din underneath him, he was allowed to feel human, allowed to feel vulnerable and weak because it was Din underneath him, and he wouldn’t really _hurt_ him, not even in his most rage induced mood. 

“Paz...” Din breathed out, calling Paz out of his thoughts and back into their room. One of his hands had reached out and his fingers were gently tracing the scar. Paz felt his eyes close and his lips curl into a smile; then Din’s hand dropped from his face. “Get on with it.” Din demanded, smirking at him as he reached up and kissed him again. Paz nodded against his lips. 

His hand moved from Din’s hip, snaking up his ribs and Din wriggled at the ticklish contact and felt for his nipple, which he took between his thumb and finger and started rolling and pinching. Din’s back arched and he broke the kiss to moan sinfully. “Patience, Din’ika, _cyare_.” He chuckled as he dropped his head to suck at Din’s ignored nipple. Paz wouldn’t describe Din as touch starved, but he was always greedy for skin-to-skin contact once it had been initiated, pushing his body into the touches he received and that made Paz all the greedier for _him_. Din’s back arched once again as Paz’s tongue swirled his nipple and he whispered Paz’s name, near silently, as if he were saying a prayer. 

Paz trailed kisses down his belly, as Din’s fingers found his hair. It was still tightly braided, but the bun he normally tied them up in had come loose, and Din tugged on them lightly. Paz groaned. His tongue dipped in Din’s navel and he felt Din’s body shudder and his cock twitch in anticipation of Paz’s mouth inches above it. Din bucked his hips and Paz licked his lips. His fingers wrapped themselves around Din’s cock and squeezed gently, Din’s hips bucking automatically bucking to create the friction he desired. Paz stroked him a few times, watching how his eyes fluttered and he bit his lip, trying to keep the noises he made trapped inside, trying to stop words he wanted to remain unspoken from being spoken out loud. Watching Din was erotic as he fought so hard to keep his face expressionless, to keep his eyes shut to block out the emotions he couldn’t hide. 

Paz kissed him roughly, as he stoked his cock, pulling away to kiss and bite again at his jaw and neck. Din whimpered his name and Paz felt his already rock hard cock twitch, removing his left hand from Din’s hip and removing his own boxers, before giving himself a stroke. Din’s eyes opened at the removal of what he once whispered was the most grounding touch he received, and Paz was taken back with the look of lust and trust in his eyes. He kissed him again gently this time, sucking on his bottom lip and pumping him, flicking his thumb of the slit of his cock. Din was panting beneath him, his body trembling. Paz returned his hand to Din’s hip and took Din’s cock in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the head, hand wrapped around where his mouth couldn’t reach. 

“Fuck!” Din hissed, his hands scrapping against Paz’s scalp and wrapping his fingers tighter in the braids. Paz moaned around Din’s cock, taking it deeper until he could feel it at the back of his throat. Din went speechless. After a few minutes, he felt Din tap on his head, his signal he was close. Paz pulled away, kissed Din’s hip, and sucked another mark onto his body, on his hip, as a reminder that Paz was here. 

Paz put his fingers against Din’s lip and Din blinked up at him, parting his lips slightly, panting heavily. “Suck.” Paz ordered him gently, eyes rolling to the back of his head as Din took his fingers in his mouth, hands dropping from his head and he sucked on his fingers as if his life depended on it. Paz could feel the ghost of his mouth on his cock, salivating at the thought of Din on his knees in front of him, sucking on him as if it were the last time they would do anything. Paz had come in Din’s mouth and Din had swallowed him greedily. 

“Roll over,” Paz breathed out, pulling his fingers out of Din’s mouth, and wishing he could have him sucking his cock but knowing that fucking Din would be better for both of them. Din obeyed instantly, spreading his legs, and raising his ass in the air; Paz moaned at the sight, knowing that this was Din’s way of showing him just how much he trusted him, to allow himself to be opened with Paz’s fingers and cock. Paz trailed his finger over Din’s hole, watching as the muscle moved underneath it, clenching itself as Din forced his body to relax. Paz ran his finger around the rim, kissing the back of Din’s neck and whispering his reassurances to him, promising he would stop whenever Din wanted. Din growled at him to hurry up and Paz pushed the tip of his finger in slowly, using the light coating of Din’s spit as lube, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to be comfortable and mentally regretting getting caught up on Din’s saliva on his fingers. Din tensed at the intrusion, but Paz knew he would be telling his body to calm; he kissed Din’s butt cheek as he pushed his finger in further, still going slow, letting Din adjust before he started fingering him properly. Din gasped, and then moaned, which Paz took as a good sign. He stilled as his he was up to his knuckle in Din’s hole. 

“You good?” He murmured, keeping his finger perfectly still, waiting for Din’s reply. Din nodded, panting but not trusting himself to speak. Paz started to pull his finger out slowly, covered his fingers in lube this time and then pushed back in just as slowly, waiting until Din gave the sign, he was ready for more. Soon enough Din’s hips started to move and roll, pulling Paz’s finger in further, meeting the thrusts. Paz added a second finger, and started to stretch Din out, knowing that no matter how many times they had done this, no matter how impatient Din was, he wanted to prep him properly, _love_ him properly. It wasn’t long before a third finger was thrusting in and out of Din’s ass and Din himself was moaning and writhing beneath him. 

“Fuck me already, Paz, I need you,” he whined, his hips still meeting the thrusts of Paz’s fingers. Paz pulled out slowly, and ran his tongue over Din’s hole, poking with his tongue and tasting Din; Din sounded downright sinful as he groaned and pushed his ass further into Paz’s face. Paz still his hips and pulled away, leaning forward to kiss Din deeply before continuing. Din smiled at him lightly. 

Paz stroked himself as he covered his cock generously in lube and then lined up his cock, guided the tip to Din’s hole with his hand and pushed himself in, feeling Din’s tightness around him. Din hissed at the new feeling, and Paz murmured kind words to him as he slowly pushed his way in, hissing a little himself at how tight Din still was, even with all their prep. He felt Din’s body tense around him and he remained still, even though all his instincts were telling him to move, to allow himself his own pleasure. Din gave him a shaky nod and he started to thrust slowly and gently until Din rocked his hips, pushing himself back on Paz’s cock much harder than Paz was doing. 

Paz took the hint and gripped Din’s hips harder as he started to pick up speed and go slightly harder, searching for the spot in Din that would make him see stars and bring him the pleasure he deserved. He knew he found it when Din groaned and his fist tightened on the sheets; Paz grinned, slamming against it again and again, enjoying hearing the slapping of his skin meeting Din’s. 

“Maker, Paz, yeah, just...” Din groaned, as he started to move his hips against Paz’s, working them into sync. Paz wrapped his hand around Din’s cock, trying to pump him to the rhythm their bodies were in, he watched as his cock entered Din, watched as the muscle twitched but accepted Paz without much resistance. He removed his gaze from where their bodies were connected and watched Din, tried to hear the words he was whispering but realised quickly he was speaking his own native language which he couldn’t decipher or understand but took it for a good thing; Din only spoke his language when he was heated up or passionate about something. Paz felt his hand work quicker, wanting Din to find his release before he did and knowing it wouldn’t be much longer, not when Din was like this, his hips rolling back to meet Paz’s thrusts and his voice deep with lust. 

Din was panting between words and every now and then, he managed to choke out Paz’s name, and “faster” or “harder” but beyond that his words were incoherent and foreign. Paz felt Din’s hips still as Paz once again hit that sweet spot in Din and felt Din’s cum coat his fingers, he kept stroking him through his orgasm, until his shoulders dropped slightly and his body relaxed even further. 

“I love you,” he whispered, almost silently and Paz was uncertain he had heard it at first but when he whispered it again like a confession, Paz thrust into him one last time as he came, filling Din with his seed, while his hips twitched with the last fleeting feeling of his orgasm. He pulled out of Din carelessly, ignoring what was sure to be a mess and rolled him into his back before attacking his lips; Din’s hands rose to his shoulders again and he felt him kiss him back just as passionately, trying to portray that he meant what he had said, that he had meant to say it. 

Paz pulled away and rested his forehead against Din’s, panting slightly but enjoying the feeling of their breaths mingling. “Say it again,” he begged in a hushed whispered. “Say it again, please.” 

“I love you.” Din said against his lips, one of his hands cradling the back of Paz’s neck. He kissed Paz’s throat and then reached up and kissed the scar. Paz felt his eyes close and couldn’t stop the smile that burst into his face. He felt Din laugh as he dropped down beside him, pulling him into his arms and squeezing him against his body tightly. 

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” Paz replied, kissing Din’s temple. He had told Din how he felt many times, had always assumed that Din cared for him just as much but was never sure if Din had it in his heart to love him, didn’t know if Din would allow himself those feelings. But now he had told him, had confessed his biggest secret and Paz couldn’t contain his happiness, couldn’t express how much lighter just _knowing_ how Din felt about him. Din had rolled into his other side, making himself effectively the little spoon but still pushed his body close against Paz. 

“I can feel you practically vibrating back there,” Din grumbled, as Paz’s fingers stroked his hip where his grip had bruised the skin. “Surely you already knew how I felt.” 

Paz hummed into his hair, closing his eyes and inhaling Din’s smell, overwhelming his senses with his lover, addicted to the scent. Just as he felt sleep creeping on him though, Din rolled out of his embrace and almost fell out of the bed, forgetting his broken ankle in his post sex haze. Paz groaned and rolled onto his back, pulling the sheets up around him, wanting longer to enjoy the afterglow of their love making. Din leaned over and kissed him gently. 

“I’m showering, I’ll be back soon.” He promised and Paz nodded sleepily, eyes closing again. He heard the restroom door open and smiled to himself. 

They would be alright, he decided, as long as they had each other they would be able to make it through anything. The future was bright, he thought contentedly as he heard the shower switch on, Din would make it through this depression, and they would emerge stronger together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! There's hope for the future after all. I know there are probably a lot of issues with this, and I should have introduced lube a lot sooner, so maybe I'll rewrite some of this chapter soon. 
> 
> This is the end of this part of House of Memories, I hope that you all enjoyed! 
> 
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you.
> 
> Paz is a big soppy oaf, but Din is just as bad, he just won't let himself be as open or vocal about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said at the start, this should be a few chapters long, and will deal with A LOT of feelings from both Din and Paz. I have a habit of just writing angst, so I'll write a few more stand alone fluffy fics to make it up to you guys! I'm sorry for the lack of outright slash in this fic, but this story is an important one in the series.
> 
> As always, if you enjoy please leave a comment, they always make me smile and I love interacting with you guys! <3


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